


Transient

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We were young and in love once, like it says on the books that we've never read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transient

_We can't be young forever;_  
_But remember feeling like we could be?_

It wasn't naivety that made us laugh and love so easily before, just truth-because as children we were tainted purity that _trusted too much_ , eyes wide and smiles even wider, ready to hand our hearts out to the grandma wolves of this big bad world. _Be honest, don't lie, speak your mind, be yourself_ : weren't these the mantras we lived by growing up, taught by parents and teachers and our seniors?

So we did what we were told, did it with fire scorching the sea-green veins that make our pale skin imperfect even today, screaming the contents of our souls to crowds, all raw and _unfiltered_. We became immortal didn't we, our tresses coloured and bleached to death, our eyes lined with midnight, our lips darkened by nicotine and spewing anger (because they said _BE YOURSELF_ )-

And no one ever said the truth would be used against us.

  


_We want to be young a little longer;_  
_But remember when we didn't want to be at all?_

We teetered on the precipice of _children_ and _not-children_ , stuck on wanting to put permanent marks on this lonely Earth just to be remembered. But it's difficult to be taken seriously like this: round-faced and bright-eyed still, pockets and fists and chests bursting with a desire for (some kind of, _any kind of_ ) glory-because we were told to dream big, aim high, reach for more than just the stars in our own universe, _but then_ we would have to leave our children-selves somewhere else, somewhere that's not here because _we have to be responsible._

So we climbed ladders and ran up stairs that led to other galaxies, trying to be older than we all really were. And we didn't have to scream anymore because everyone knew us, listening to what we had to say as we heaved with censored truth. We became larger than life didn't we, kids in adult clothing making a difference in the world by leaving our innocence behind us-

And no one ever said glory could be so damn lonely.

  


_We won't be young again;_  
_But remember how we wish we could still be?_

Our smiles have become strained to the point of wear, sharp eyes glazed with half-truths that aren't so different from our lies. And it's not that we're tired of what we've worked so hard for, just a little frustrated by our success-because we've discovered that it's not what we thought it would be. But we wanted this, craved for it, wanted to die for it at some point. And now that we're in the pinnacle, we can't quit, not with people counting on us to push on and keep moving forward.

So we persevered, put on our best smiles along with our best clothes, gave them a fabricated version of our all. And we don't have to say anything now that they're doing the screaming for us, everyone else talking on our behalf thinking _they understand_. We became gods didn't we, silent in our heavenly abodes and manically revered and unable to (not anymore) completely speak for ourselves-

And no one ever said success was never going to be enough, never going to be _everything._

  


"But isn't this what you wanted too?" You ask, and I can only sigh in response, calloused fingers adjusting the band that hides more than just my nose from the world. When it's secure, I turn around and reach out, palm hovering over your face. 

"No," I reply as every other sound in the make room disappears with just your eyes meeting mine, my hand moving to encompass more than just what it can see. " _You_ are what I've wanted."

And you smile and wince at the same time, looking past me and at the lone figure strumming the guitar on the couch, shaking your head. "Akira..."

But I just nod in understanding. Smile back before turning around to also look at Aoi where he is, lost in the chords of _Filth in_ and completely oblivious. 

"I know, Kouyou."

  


_"Tokyo huh," I breathe out, staring up at you where you've placed yourself on my lap, lips beautifully swollen by my kisses, and you grin wickedly. "Sounds like fun."_

_You move your hips in a downward push, leaning down to plant a kiss on the tip of my nose_ almost _lovingly. "We'll take our guitars and amps and clothes. And my washing machine." You pull back then, eyes warm but glazed with something that isn't_ here _. "And that's all we'll ever need."_

_I drag you closer, forehead finding that spot on your chest that I like to frequent in, because it's the closest to your heart that I'm ever going to be. "I'll need you too, Kouyou." I whisper, a confession that's not easy to make._

And I remember your nineteen-year-old self had glowed at the declaration, and it makes my joints ache until the present with that thing they call young love, now old, but still love nonetheless. 

_"I'll always be with you Akira."_

And you still are, still with me like you said after years of soccer balls and shitty amps and cold nights at the back of the equipment truck. Just...

In the arms of somebody else.


End file.
